


The Moments In Between

by my99centdreams



Category: One Piece
Genre: First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my99centdreams/pseuds/my99centdreams
Summary: Zoro takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly along with all of the tension in his body, “I could do that for you.”“You’ve lost me,” Sanji’s brows pull together in confusion. “Do what?”“Things,” Zoro mumbles. “I could do stuff for you. I could take care of you.”Or, Sanji cuts back on smoking and starts thinking about the extra years it will add to his life.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 44
Kudos: 438





	The Moments In Between

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I haven't written fanfic or ANY type of smut in years, but i tried hard okay lol. Also, I'm only on like season 2 of One Piece and haven't even met all of the crew members yet so like half of them aren't even mentioned in this. All that aside I hope you guys like this because I certainly enjoyed writing it.

They start off fighting like cats and dogs. Everything about Zoro annoys Sanji from the way he loudly slurps down food to the constant metallic tinkling sound his swords make as he walks and they rub against his thigh. He doesn’t say anything in the beginning because he’s new; he doesn’t want to be _that_ guy. But, after three weeks he feels like he’ll have an aneurysm if he doesn’t just get Zoro the fuck _out_ of his face.

“Holy fuck,” Sanji yells, slamming down the bread knife he just finished sharpening. “Do you have to be in here? Honestly, is there a reason you’re here? Because if there is let me know and I’ll come back when you’re gone. If not, then get the fuck out.”  
Zoro glares at him, his eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You!” Sanji shouts, his cheeks turning red. “You're the most annoying person I've ever met."

“ _I’m_ annoying? What do you do all day besides brag about your own cooking and chase after Nami like a lovesick idiot? It’s pathetic.”

Sanji’s so mad his breathing turns quick and shallow and that familiar itch crawls up his spine; he wants to fight. He seethes, “What are you, jealous?”

At this Zoro’s entire demeanor changes and his face shifts to an expression of disgust, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes burning. He looks like a ticking time bomb. Sanji watches him cooly, that urge to fight still zinging up and down his body, but he keeps still and waits to see what Zoro will do. “You know, if we were anywhere else and you weren’t a part of this crew I would’ve sliced you in three by now. But, I’m gonna be nice and give you a piece of advice. Whatever stupid shit is flying around your brain right now? Lock it down. The next time you involve me in whatever _this_ is I’ll lay you the fuck out.”

Even though Sanji knows he should shut up and count his blessings that he isn’t going to get into yet another fight on yet another ship in record time he still can’t control himself. He pulls his smokes from his pocket, never taking his eyes off of Zoro and his swords and says, “I’d like to see you try.”

It ends with Usopp stepping in between them and Luffy wrapping his arms around Zoro before dragging him out of the galley. Sanji looks up at the ceiling and cracks a mean smile; if this is how it’s going to be then so be it.

Usopp looks frazzled, “What happened? I didn’t know you guys hated each other I thought you just liked to argue now and then.”

“I don’t hate him,” Sanji says, reaching for his smokes. When he doesn’t say anything else Usopp throws his hands up in surrender and ambles out of the room. Sanji doesn’t even truly understand why Zoro gets under his skin so much. Sure, Sanji’s always been short-tempered - both his former co-workers and customers could attest to that - but, working at a restaurant he’d had to learn how to both deal and temporarily co-exist with people that irritated him. For whatever reason with Zoro it’s like he regresses three years and just wants to slam his face into the deck.

If Sanji knows himself even a little bit then he also knows that this preoccupation he has with Zoro is as far from good news as possible. Sanji isn’t an idiot; he’s noticed a pattern in his life when it comes to his close relationships. After all, the last person he felt this level of anger towards ended up adopting him and making Sanji his sous chef for a decade.

*

It doesn't take long for them to stop fighting, but it does take a while for them to allow themselves to be alone together. It's not like they ever had a discussion about it, but it's impossible not to notice the way one backs out of a room if it’s just the two of them inside of it. Sometimes, Sanji lies awake at night trying to figure out if Zoro avoids him out of respect or if it's because he feels the same hungry energy buzzing underneath his skin that Sanji does. It's not a fight type of energy (even though he wishes it was) it’s more like a craving.

He smokes nearly double the amount he used to in an attempt to curb it, but still finds himself wishing Zoro would just stay _put_. If he could just get his hands on Zoro for a _minute_ he’d feel better. Sanji catches him doing dishes one night (even though Sanji had banned everyone from doing them as they had eaten off of his favorite dish set and didn’t trust the others not to break any) and gets stuck looking at the delicate way Zoro’s deadly hands hold Sanji’s beloved thin-stemmed wine glasses and he wants to press Zoro up against the counter and breathe him in. Another time, on an otherwise boring day, they all get drunk and Sanji’s gaze keeps drifting back to the blush in Zoro’s cheeks that flares up whenever he laughs at one of Luffy’s dumb jokes. Sanji thinks about pressing his hands to either side of Zoro’s face and feeling the heat from that blush; thinks about being up close and personal with the smile that makes his stomach flutter.

But, Sanji doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he shoves these thoughts as far away as they can go and forces himself to look away from Zoro anytime he does _anything_ that Sanji’s mind or body finds even slightly interesting. It doesn’t work all that well if he’s being honest with himself; their constant bickering begins anew because he doesn't know what the fuck else to do. Unlike before, it’s lighthearted and he doesn't mean any of the shit he says, but Zoro gives it right back to him. They get to know each other through quips and backhanded compliments. The others making sure to steer clear of them when they get into one of their "heated discussions" as Nami likes to call them.

When all is said and done Sanji begrudgingly admits that he _likes_ Zoro. Sure, he’s annoying and infuriating and snappy, but he’s also determined and funny and ambitious and caring. Sanji’s always been drawn to those with notoriously rough exteriors and surprisingly good hearts and Zoro is no exception. He makes his peace with it and goes about his business.

*

Eventually, Sanji gives in and starts watching Zoro because there's nothing else for him to do. The kitchen is clean, the crew is fed, and his inventory list is precise and up to date. By the time the sun finally dips well below the horizon he's usually left scrambling for something to fill his time. He used to just sit on the deck and smoke and have a drink or three, but then Chopper started coming to him with his head down and his hands behind his back, voice timid as he warned of the damage cigarettes were doing to his body.

It wasn't even that Sanji really cared all that much or that it was even news to him (it was _his_ body after all which made it pretty impossible to ignore the ugly cough he'd get early in the morning and again late at night), but the simple (and annoying) fact that Chopper wouldn't let it go. He'd even started giving him these disappointed looks whenever Sanji would start his evening chain-smoking routine.

So, as a new distraction, he cuts his nightly cigarette intake in half and starts bringing up a bowl full of baby carrots to give his fingers and mouth something to focus on and watches Zoro go about his routine. It's not even interesting. It's not. Zoro just exercises for what feels like hours until he finally wears himself out, rinses himself off with a bucket of seawater, and trudges over to Sanji.

Still, for an entire week Sanji doesn’t miss a night. If he’s being completely honest with himself, there's something in the way the sweat on Zoro's skin glistens in the moonlight, in the way his muscles tighten and strain to complete whatever torture he puts them through, and in the way his entire demeanor changes when he wields one of his swords. It's subtle, but there. Zoro treats his swords like lovers; like every drop of blood they shed is a gift or a declaration of love and loyalty. When he swings them around on the ship, imagining enemies and perfecting his form, every movement is predatory and calculated, but natural all the same. It's hard for Sanji to explain even to himself, but he watches Zoro and feels like there is no other person in the world that could even come close to who or what Zoro is or will become.

Sanji knows the others look at him and sometimes see an overly chivalrous lovesick fool at times, but he mostly does that shit to put a smile on Nami’s face. That’s not to say that if Nami professed her love for him he wouldn’t be interested, but at this current point in time beyond friendship the most he feels for her is lust. She’s a beautiful woman and also the _only_ woman on the ship; it makes sense that he would get a little carried away at times. But, looking at Nami doesn’t make Sanji feel anything he hasn’t felt for a hundred random women before her as they passed through the Baratie. So, naturally it’s a little jarring when just looking at Roronoa Zoro has Sanji pressing trembling fingers to his chest where he can feel something warm begin to bloom.

Sanji fumbles for a cigarette and tries to steel himself from the inside out. This is still the same person that used to grate on his nerves every fucking day for weeks. Sanji doesn’t think he’s ever fought someone as many times as he’s fought Zoro; that has to mean they’re on the precipice of being enemies, right? Sanji doesn’t have - _feelings_ \- for an enemy. He nods to himself, yeah, he’s being ridiculous. A tiny thought pushes his way to the forefront of his mind: if they’re such enemies then how come neither of them ever got injured in all of those fights? Sanji tries to shove it back down into the dark recesses of his mind, but it refuses to be snuffed out. He knows he pulled his kicks, and, deep down he knows he’s not such a talented fighter that one of the best swordsmen in the world has been unable to knick him even once with his precious swords.

"Hey," Zoro calls quietly as he makes his way to the bucket of seawater.

"Yeah?" Sanji tears himself out of his thoughts and lights his cigarette. Were they just playing around? Did they use arguing and fighting as an excuse to be around each other? God, Sanji groans inwardly, what are they even doing?

"That's your fourth one."

"No, it's not." Sanji exhales. "This is only my second."

Zoro snorts, "It's your fourth. You better savor it; if you go past five I'll have to tell Chopper."

Sanji rolls his eyes, annoyed, "Didn't take you for a tattle tale."

Zoro laughs, "I didn't take you for a weakling. Five is the limit. Stick to your word."

Sanji waves his hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah."

They're quiet as Zoro finishes rinsing and comes to sit next to Sanji. He holds out a hand and Sanji hands him the bowl of carrots wordlessly. Zoro chomps down noisily as Sanji looks up at the stars and thinks about what he's supposed to do with the extra years of life quitting smoking would give him. Does he even want them?

Zoro bumps his shoulder against Sanji's, his skin warm and soft. He smells like salt and the special oil he uses to clean his swords and a little earthy, like a Spring island after a rainstorm. Zoro splits another carrot in two and asks, "What're you thinking about?"

Sanji turns away from the stars and meets Zoro's curious gaze. His eyes are a warm brown, like cacao beans, and the bridge of his nose is a little sunburned and Sanji feels something inside of him sigh. He says, "You."

Zoro rolls his eyes and looks away like he thinks Sanji's just fucking with him, "Yeah, what about me?"

Sanji looks at him for a minute and wonders when the last time someone held him was? When was the last time someone told Zoro they loved him and meant it? Shit, when was the last time Zoro laid next to someone and didn't keep his swords within arm's reach at all times? He doesn't ask any of that, though. Instead he asks, "Who gave you your hair?"

"My hair?"

"Yeah," Sanji flicks his cigarette over the railing. "The color. I've seen lots of hair colors working at Baratie, people from all over came there, but you're the first with green."

"My mom," Zoro says. "She always bragged to my dad about it. It must've been an ongoing joke they had from before I was born. She'd say there was more of her in me than him and that we had a special bond; my dad would laugh and turn to me and say 'tell her that's not true, tell her about our bond'. I loved it."

Sanji smiles, "Sounds like you were all happy."

Zoro nods, the ghost of a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth.

"So, what happened? How'd you go from there to the dojo?"

"What always happens," Zoro shrugs. "Life."

Sanji doesn't press for more and Zoro doesn't say anything else. They sit together silently until Sanji finishes his fifth cigarette and Zoro gives him a hand up. They walk to their bunks, careful not to wake the others. Sanji's bed is closest to the door and when he stops next to it to pull his shoes and shirt off Zoro inches past him, his hand brushing against the bare skin of Sanji's back, his fingertips lingering even as Zoro himself strides on, his arm outstretched behind him.

Sanji climbs into bed a moment later, his skin singing. He taps his fingers on his stomach, wishing for another cigarette, a drink, another stolen touch. It takes him a while to fall asleep and when he does he has a bunch of jumbled dreams about Zoro. All of them begin with Sanji searching for a thick head of green hair in a crowd and they all end with Zoro grasping Sanji's hand in his own.

*

They've been passing through the Grand Line for a little over two months now and Sanji is still finding it impossible to get used to the violent shifts in the weather. He'd went to sleep nearly sweating to death in nothing but his boxers and had woken up shivering with his teeth chattering as fat snowflakes began to cover the deck above. He'd quickly sprung into action, layering as many pieces of clothing as he possibly could before journeying to the kitchen.

Breakfast was simple: french toast with caramelized apples, scrambled eggs, and a heaping plate of bacon and sausage (mostly for Luffy). The others ate quietly, enjoying their meal as they occasionally chimed in to a conversation Usopp and Chopper were having. Zoro kept his eyes on the window above the sink, only looking away to stab at another piece of food with his fork and the others let him be, knowing better than to try and draw him into the conversation. Sanji didn't used to be a morning person either; he understood.

Now, Sanji sits alone in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee as he thinks about those extra years again. No matter what happens, he thinks, he'll never settle down on a winter island. He hates the cold. He'd need a more prosperous island with a well established trade route and a bustling marketplace; he wasn't going to live somewhere he wouldn't be able to cook whatever his heart desired.

Zoro hates the cold. Sanji doesn’t want to live anywhere that his friends wouldn’t feel comfortable visiting him at. Plus, the last time Zoro was around snow he’d nearly frozen to death due to sheer stupidity and Sanji doesn’t need that kind of stress in the retirement phase of his life. Maybe a summer island; everything would be in bloom year round and he’d always have a surplus of fresh herbs and vegetables to choose from.

He doesn’t really know at what point he stopped trying to smother his unshakeable want for Zoro, but he feels lighter now. He still flits about Nami at times, showering her with praise and acts of service, but it’s like he does it out of habit at this point. Sanji spent an entire day last week crafting a masterpiece of a birthday cake for Zoro only to watch as Zoro ate one tiny sliver of a piece before he drank himself unconscious. He wanted to get mad, to yell about how he slaved over this cake, but he’d seen the big grin on Zoro’s face the moment Sanji revealed the cake. His eyes shone and he looked at Sanji like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, like he couldn’t believe Sanji had remembered his birthday let alone baked an entire cake for him.

To be honest, Sanji couldn’t believe he baked an entire cake for him either. He’d gotten the idea about two weeks prior and had nearly made himself crazy trying to decide whether baking a cake for Zoro was the culinary version of buying him two dozen roses and a box of chocolates. After agonizing over it for what felt like a century, Sanji realized the regret he would feel if he didn’t make the cake would trump any embarrassment at his crew mates _possibly_ reading into the cake.

Besides, everyone _else_ had complimented him on his baking skills and had begun pelting him with requests for various treats on their upcoming birthdays. He’d made a mental note of them all even though he’d rejected Luffy and Usopp up front. Nami received a resounding yes and he couldn’t bring himself to even pretend to deny Chopper as he didn’t want to cause him to have any doubts about the strength of their friendship.

Sanji didn’t make it into bed until a little before sunrise and even though he was exhausted he was restless in his bunk. He tossed and turned, shifting his pillow this way and that, before he finally grunted and gave up. He decided to just pull an all-nighter and nap throughout the day. Sanji headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea; he rubbed his stomach absently as he pondered over what he’d make for breakfast later on that day. Now, he blames the rabbit hole he always falls down when meal planning for why it took so long for him to notice Zoro slumped over the kitchen table, shoveling cake into his mouth at the speed of a tortoise.

Sanji had leaned against the counter, frozen, the kettle beginning to whistle faintly behind him.

“Good cake,” Zoro slurred, licking the icing off of his fork.

Sanji hadn’t wanted to break the moment so he’d said nothing. He went about setting his tea up and sat down across from Zoro.

He thinks about Zoro now and smothers a laugh in his steaming mug. He’d looked like a confused, drunken fool with icing smeared around his mouth and lines from whatever he’d fallen asleep against imprinted on his cheek and his stupid fucking earrings swaying every time he leaned forward to take a bite. They’d sat there quietly and Sanji felt peace wash over him slow and warm like honey on a sore throat.

Sanji thinks about those extra years again and wonders how many of them will Zoro be present for? Would it even be enough?

*

It’s so hot outside smoking makes Sanji feel nauseous so he brings out a bottle of Sake and a bucket of half melted ice and plops down in the only pinprick of shade on the entire ship. Zoro comes outside a few minutes after Sanji and after experiencing the heat first hand quickly gives up on whatever chores he had intended to complete and sits down next to Sanji instead.

They drink in companionable silence for a while, occasionally being joined by Usopp or Nami as they begin to wilt from the heat as well. Chopper hasn’t set foot outside all day and Luffy refuses to come out before the sun sets. By the time Sanji fills up the ice bucket, snags another bottle, and cuts up some mango for a snack the sun has started its long descent and Sanji and Zoro are alone on the deck.

After another hour passes Luffy shows his face on the deck again in order to demand Sanji feed him. Sanji hobbles to his feet, a little tipsy, and heads toward the kitchen wordlessly to prepare dinner for everyone. He keeps it extremely simple and cold: a multitude of sushi and sashimi, ceviche, and a hearty salad. They all eat rather quickly, the heat making them more ravenous than usual, and after only a short while all of the dishes are in the sink and Sanji is heading back out to his spot with Zoro following behind him.

Now that the sun is down and Sanji is officially off cooking duty for the night he shrugs out of his suit jacket and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. He even goes the extra mile and undoes the top few buttons on his shirt as well.

“Wow,” Zoro whistles. “Took off your jacket; that’s certainly a first. What’s next? No more cuff links?”

“Ha ha,” Sanji rolls his eyes, “So funny. Just because you don’t care about your appearance doesn’t mean I can’t. Some of us like looking put together and professional.”

Zoro snorts, “We’re pirates.”

“Funny,” Sanji says, dry. “I’m sure you dressed the same for years before becoming a pirate so what’s your excuse?”

“Shut up and drink,” Zoro grumbles, shoving the bottle into Sanji’s hands. Sanji tips his head back and gets an eyeful of stars and a mouthful of liquor. He nearly spits it all up when Zoro blurts, “Don’t you want to be taken care of sometimes?”

Sanji pounds the back of his fist against his chest and gives Zoro a death glare, “I haven’t given it much thought.”

“You cook and clean for all of us every day,” Zoro says, looking at him intently. “God only knows all the favors and errands Nami has you do for her. Don’t you want that for yourself sometimes?”

Sanji rubs the back of his neck and lights a cigarette even though he knows it’s going to taste off. He exhales loudly and admits, “I guess. It’d be nice once in a while. But, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. At least not on this ship.” Sanji laughs a little to try to ease the conversation back into familiar territory. He doesn’t know why Zoro is even bringing this shit up, but it’s making him feel…weird.

Sanji wasn’t always selfless; back before Zeff he was a selfish little brat that only cared about himself and intended to keep it that way. It’s not all that surprising that after a near death experience in which the only reason Sanji stood any chance of survival was due to Zeff’s monumental selflessness that Sanji did a little soul-searching and decided to change for the better. He genuinely likes the way he is, though. He doesn’t feel like he’s stretching himself too thin or that he’s being taken advantage of. He likes taking care of other people; it gives him a smaller purpose in life (his main one being his quest for the All Blue) and it makes him feel grounded. In a way, taking care of his crew mates reminds him of life with Zeff and all of the other guys at Baratie. They all looked out for each other no matter what; Sanji doesn’t want to lose that feeling.

When Sanji drifts back down out of his thoughts he finds Zoro still peering at him intensely; he keeps biting his lip and clenching his fist like he wants to say something, but keeps thinking better of it. It’s fucking weird; Zoro has to be one of the most confident people Sanji knows so to see him second guessing himself is just odd. The thought of Zoro feeling uncomfortable or like there’s topics that should be avoided between them annoys Sanji immensely causing him to order, “Spit it out already.”

Zoro takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly along with all of the tension in his body, “I could do that for you.”

“You’ve lost me,” Sanji’s brows pull together in confusion. “Do what?”

“ _Things_ ,” Zoro mumbles. “I could do stuff for you. I could take care of you.”

Sanji doesn’t evenknow where to begin with that one and his heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. Maybe the heat has finally gotten to Zoro. He’s probably delirious with heatstroke and Sanji’s witnessing the madness before he faints or something. “I think you should go inside and lay down you’re really not making any sense.”

Zoro grunts, exasperated. “I don’t have fucking heatstroke.”

“Oh,” Sanji smiles, snapping his fingers. “You’re drunk! I didn’t even notice; you’re getting better at hiding it. Last time you couldn’t even string a sentence together. Now look at you.”

“Fuck,” Zoro groans, irritation coloring his tone. “Why are you like this? Every time I try and talk to you you act like a fucking moron.”

Sanji sputters, “Fuck you, moss head.”

“You know what? Fuck it,” Zoro huffs. “Feel free to kick me after.”

“After _what_?”

Zoro ignores him, grabs a fistful of Sanji’s hair and drags their mouths together. Sanji’s entire body explodes in a fit of utter confusion as his brain scrambles to figure out just what the fuck is happening until he just sort of _melts_ into the kiss. It feels like sinking into a warm bath on a cold night; it feels like _what the hell took them so long_?

Zoro lips are sticky from the drink and sweet from the mango Sanji had cut up for him before this entire conversation had started and his hand is rough where it cups Sanji’s cheek. Zoro’s kiss is tender and soft, he doesn’t pull Sanji in or try to take control of the kiss, and mere seconds pass before Sanji finds himself clutching two handfuls of Zoro’s shirt and bringing their bodies closer together. Now that he’s given in he wants everything.

And Zoro gives it to him.

_*_

It starts off rough and feral, teeth clashing and hands bruising. Sanji hasn’t fucked like this since he was eighteen and even though his dick is hard and the word _finally_ keeps playing in his mind on repeat, he still feels a ball of nerves tightening in the pit of his stomach. This isn’t how he always imagined it would be if he ever got the chance to really get his hands on Zoro, but he can go with the flow. After all, he just wants to make this _good_ for Zoro.

But, just as the thought races through his mind, Zoro stops him with a hand on his chest, his touch light but firm all the same and Sanji feels his heart stop.

“This is what you want?” Zoro looks at him, his expression unreadable.

“What?” Sanji pants, already leaning in to suck a hickey on Zoro’s neck in an attempt to get them back on track. “What are you talking about?”

Zoro pushes him back gently and looks at him again, his eyebrow cocked the way it always does when he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of Sanji’s mouth. Sanji doesn’t know why the fuck he feels the need to play the consent game; Sanji’s made it pretty clear that he’s more than ready for them to be naked already.

Zoro rolls his eyes before placing his hands on Sanji’s shoulders for a moment before sliding them down to his wrists, his fingers wrapping loosely around them as Zoro tugs them toward his own waist. The moment they make contact Sanji tightens his grip as Zoro moves his hands up to cup Sanji’s cheeks, leaning in to press fluttering kisses to Sanji’s forehead, temples, jawline, and neck.

He keeps them sweet and chaste and Sanji pictures teenage sweethearts kissing this way; the kisses are loud in the quiet of the room and the overall innocence of them makes Sanji’s hands start to shake. He doesn’t know what Zoro’s doing, but with each kiss Sanji’s breath hitches and his hips stutter forwards, desperate for any type of contact. His eyes flutter closed as he tips his head back against the wall, offering up his neck to Zoro once more. Zoro’s mouth slides down from his jaw to the hollow of his throat and Sanji feels like he might die if Zoro stops. He moans when Zoro pulls him in closer by his belt loops until they’re flush against one another and Sanji can’t fucking _breathe_.

“If I can do it,” Zoro whispers, his lips just barely brushing against Sanji’s. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want, whatever you need. I’ll do it for you.”

Sanji swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, a whine escaping his throat as his cheeks pink up, “Stop messing around like we’re virgins or something and just fuck me already.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re fucking annoying?” Before Sanji can scrounge up a response, Zoro closes the last bit of distance between them and kisses him slow and tender like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. Between kisses he says, “You think I want it rough, but I don’t. Let me take care of you for once.”

Sanji’s first instinct is to brush him off, to up the tempo once more and get them back on the previous page. But, Zoro nips at his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, and murmurs, “Please.”

The fight drains right out of him and he goes pliant, breathing, “Okay.”

*

Sanji’s stretched out on his back on top of a bunch of blankets on the floor, a ratty pillow under his head, his chest heaving and his eyes low. He’s burning hot, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin and his hair plastered to his forehead as Zoro pushes his legs back. Sanji’s never been this hard in his life and when Zoro spots the shallow pool of pre come below Sanji’s belly button his eyes go dark and hungry.

Sanji feels strung out, like a part of him doesn’t even remember how they got to this point anymore and the other part of him doesn’t give a fuck as long as Zoro keeps going. He reaches for Zoro, “ _Please._ ”

Zoro leans in to Sanji’s grasp, Sanji’s hands coming to rest weakly on either side of Zoro’s face as he makes a low soothing sound, “I’m here.”

He shuffles in a little closer and reaches for the little bottle of oil he’d snuck back at the last island and spreads a little more over his dick. Sanji’s own dick twitches at the sight, his back arching up off the floor in anticipation. Zoro’s going to be _inside_ of him, filling him up and stretching him open, making a place for himself in Sanji. God, his throat goes dry and his belly goes hot, he wants it so fucking bad.

“Need it,” he whispers, turning away from Zoro’s gaze.

“I know,” Zoro breathes. Zoro brings a hand down to Sanji’s hole and presses three fingers inside one after the other and Sanji wants to kick him for wasting more time. He loves foreplay as much as the next guy, but Zoro already spent a good chunk of time opening him up with his fingers and Sanji needs _more._ “I’m gonna give you what you need now.”

Sanji nods and lets out a weak moan; there’s an excited throb inside him that’s turning into an ache the longer Zoro makes him wait.

When he pushes in it hurts and Sanji’s brain is shouting _too much_ , but that ache inside him is screaming _not enough_ so he forces himself to relax and to breathe in deep and slow. Above him Zoro’s face scrunches up, his eyebrows drawing together as he groans, his head dropping forward as his eyes close. His voice is strained and raw, “ _Fuck._ ”

He fills Sanji up slowly and neither one of them is quiet; gasps and moans tearing out of their throats as pleasure rips through them. When Zoro bottoms out he stills and drops down to press a kiss to Sanji’s forehead, his arms trembling. He breathes, “ _Sanji_.”

Sanji swallows, feels that ache start to take over again, and whispers, “Move.”

Zoro draws back slowly before jerking his hips forwards hard; Sanji’s hands fly to Zoro’s lower back, crying out as Zoro starts _pounding_ into him like he can’t get deep enough. Sweat drips down Zoro’s chest, his skin looking golden in the soft light of the lamp and Sanji tightens his grip and pulls Zoro into him on every thrust. He can’t even control the noises coming out of his mouth at this point all he can think about is how _full_ he is and how fucking _good_ Zoro’s dick feels inside him where he’s hot and needy.

“I told you,” Zoro grunts, his eyes dancing between Sanji’s swollen mouth and his hooded eyes. “Whatever you need I’ll give it to you. Nobody else. You need me to fuck you until you can’t even _think_ straight? I’ll do it.”

“Oh my god,” Sanji wails, feeling pleasure bloom as Zoro changes the angle just a hair and starts hitting that tender spot inside him. He feels like he’s burning up and drowning at the same time; his belly a pool of heat and his dick so swollen it hurts. He can’t stay still; his back arches without his permission as his head turns side to side, his eyes closed tight against the sight of Zoro on top of him. He moans, “What are you doing to me?”

For a moment Zoro says nothing, the only sound in the room their harsh breathing and desperate moans, the sound of their bodies meeting again and again, until he leans back and gets a hand on Sanji’s dick, “Taking care of you.”

The second Sanji thinks he might come it’s already happening; his back lifting up off the floor as he blows his load onto his own stomach. Waves of pleasure course through him as his nails scratch down Zoro’s back as he mouths Zoro’s name over and over again though no sound escapes from his lips.

When he finally comes down from his orgasm Zoro is looking at him in awe, adoration written plainly across his face. His hips still pump into Sanji, frantic as he chases his own release.

Sanji lies there, boneless, his voice finally returning to him as he says, “Thank you.”

Zoro nearly doubles over, a guttural moan spilling out of him as he fucks into Sanji one last time before his hips still, wet warmth filling Sanji up a second later. He collapses on top of Sanji, panting in a way Sanji’s only seen him do after a particularly brutal fight and Sanji cradles him in his arms.

*

Roronoa has scars on top of scars on top of _scars_. Sanji tries counting them one night, but every time he spots a new one he stops and asks Zoro the story of how he got it. Zoro spins tales of collecting bounties, training in the dojo, sparring with other hunters as both practice and a way to blow off steam, and, of course, defending his crew. They go on like this until Sanji stops counting and just starts kissing them one by one; his kisses are sweet and light and Zoro’s breath hitches with each one.

Sanji presses his cheek to the warm skin of Zoro’s belly for a moment before moving up to rest on his chest. His hand trails up from Zoro’s thigh to his hip and Sanji latches on tight like if he doesn’t Zoro might up and disappear on him.

“I still don’t know what we’re doing,” Sanji whispers. He doesn’t know what it is about Zoro that always makes him want to tell the truth no matter how embarrassing or sappy or ugly it may be.

“That’s okay,” Zoro wraps his arms around Sanji, tugging him in that much closer.

Love bubbles up inside of him; it rises from the deepest, blackest pit of his stomach to his chest where it thickens before moving onwards to the middle of his throat. He’s never felt love like this in his entire life where it’s almost palpable; it’s like he can reach in and pull it out of himself and it would fill up the entire sky and he’d look at Zoro and he’d tell him it’s all for him, every last drop. The way he feels about Roronoa Zoro has completely engulfed anything he ever imagined he’d feel for anyone. It kind of makes him want to cry if he’s being honest. It’s more than a lot to handle.

“Roronoa,” Sanji says.

He looks down at Sanji, amused, “Sanji.”

“I could kiss you every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Roronoa’s eyes go soft, his voice soft and sure, “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Sanji thinks about those extra years again and vows to spend every last one of them with Zoro.


End file.
